Chapter 39

long ass chapter holy shit

it had been two months of awkward tension, meals taken up to bedrooms, and wordless training as five silhouettes tiptoed around each other. the group had been working hard as ever, and with their collab with LESSERAFIM and ILLIT (stream FIM-LIT!) dropping soon, they’d balanced media training, rehearsal, and jet-lag on an already filled platter since then.

“alright, girls, let’s run it from the top again!” a chorus of groans followed the command as the fourteen members gathered into formation.

“I-I-I-I-I-I am ICONIC by MISTAKE…” megan wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, running the chorus again and again while LESSERAFIM rehearsed the intro.

“megan, at least take a break, for just few minutes,” yoonchae begged. “you’re going to pass out from exhaustion and burn out. when was the last time you drank water? or ate? or slept? megan i don’t care that you’re practicing—”

“but i care!” she snapped. “”but i care! i care about this comeback. i care about not embarrassing myself on stage. i care about making sure all those months of work weren’t for nothing. so stop acting like taking a break is going to magically fix everything.”

“if you can’t do it for us, do it for dani. please, meg”

megan laughed bitterly. “wow.”

“what?”

“that’s low, even for you.”

“i’m just saying she’d want you to take care of yourself.”

“stop pretending you know what she wants,” megan spat.

“er, yoonchae unnie?” iroha mumbled awkwardly. “스태프분들이 마이크를 착용하고 의상을 갖춰 입으시길 기다리고 계세요… 혹시 방해했다면 죄송합니다… ” [the staff are waiting for you to get mic’d up and dressed… sorry if i’m interrupting]

“감사합니다, 이로하야,” [thank you, iroha-ya] yoonchae directed her gaze at megan. “we’re not finished.” megan scoffed at yoonchae’s back before turning to iroha.

“yes?”

“i know it’s difficult, megan unnie… i miss moka too [A/N MOKAS BACKKKKK] but… you have to stay strong and healthy.”

megan’s gaze softened slightly. “thank you, roha.”

for a moment, megan almost smiled. then the expression vanished.

“i’ll be fine.”

iroha opened her mouth as if to argue, thought better of it, and gave a small nod. “Okay.” the younger girl hurried off toward the waiting staff, leaving megan alone in the practice room. the music had long since stopped. around her, members of all three groups drifted toward the dressing area, conversations quiet and careful. the carefulness was what she hated most. nobody yelled anymore. nobody fought.

nobody even looked at her for longer than a few seconds. two months ago, she would’ve preferred silence over arguments. now she wasn’t so sure.

“megan.”

her shoulders immediately tensed. yoonchae stood in the doorway. of course she wasn’t done.

“what?”

yoonchae crossed her arms. “you were nicer to iroha for thirty seconds than you’ve been to the rest of us for two months.” a bitter laugh escaped megan.

“congratulations. you’ve cracked the case.”

“i’m serious.”

“so am i.”

neither moved.

neither looked away.

finally, yoonchae sighed.

“do you know what dani’s last message to me was before she left?”

megan’s jaw tightened.

“i don’t care.”

“that’s a lie.” the words landed harder than either of them expected. yoonchae swallowed. “she asked me to look after you.”

something flickered across megan’s face, almost as though she were fighting herself to show either annoyance or understanding.

“then she picked the wrong person.”

“megan—”

“no.”

the single word came out sharp enough to cut.

“you don’t get to stand there and act like you’re doing this for dani.”

yoonchae stared at her. “then who am i doing it for?”

megan opened her mouth. nothing came out. because the answer was obvious. and somehow that made her even angrier. “i have to get mic’d up.”

“megan.”

“i’m done talking.”

“you never started.”

the room fell silent. for the first time, megan looked genuinely hurt. only for a second. then the wall slammed back into place.

“whatever.”

she brushed past yoonchae without another word. the door shut behind her with a sharp click. yoonchae stood alone in the empty practice room. and for the first time in two months, she wondered if maybe they were running out of time.

“five minutes!”

the call echoed through the corridor, drawing everyone’s attention toward the stage entrance. staff members hurried through the cramped backstage hallways carrying equipment and checking microphones while managers ran through schedules one last time. around her, members of ILLIT and LESSERAFIM stretched, adjusted outfits, and chatted excitedly as they prepared for the collaboration stage.

megan stood apart from the girls.

it wasn’t intentional anymore. at some point during the past two months, isolation had simply become habit. nobody told her to sit alone during meals, and nobody asked her to leave conversations. the distance had formed naturally, built from dozens of awkward silences and unfinished arguments until eventually everyone learned to stop trying.

leaning against the wall, she unlocked her phone and absentmindedly opened a familiar contact.

dani.

the conversation hadn’t changed since the day she’d left.

megan already knew every message by heart. she knew where every joke was buried, every blurry picture sent at three in the morning, every ridiculous argument they’d somehow turned into a twenty-minute debate. none of that stopped her from scrolling anyway.

the last message was still the same stupid joke about stealing one of megan’s hoodies.

nothing important.

nothing profound.

just ordinary.

and somehow that was the worst part.

there was no dramatic goodbye hidden between the texts. no final conversation she could reread searching for meaning. just a normal message sent by someone who had assumed there would be another conversation tomorrow.

“still looking at those?”

megan immediately locked her screen.

chaewon stood beside her, arms folded loosely across her chest.

“i’m not.”

her senior raised an eyebrow.

“right.”

to megan’s surprise, chaewon didn’t press the issue. she simply moved to stand beside her, watching the backstage chaos unfold in front of them. for a few moments neither spoke, the noise of staff and performers filling the silence between them.

finally, chaewon sighed.

“you know, when yunjin’s upset, she gets louder.”

megan frowned.

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“nothing, really.” chaewon shrugged. “i was just thinking about how everyone handles things differently. some people talk more. some people joke more. some people start arguments over absolutely nothing.”

a reluctant snort almost escaped megan before she caught it.

chaewon noticed anyway.

“see? you know exactly who i’m talking about.”

megan rolled her eyes.

“and?”

“and you’ve been doing the opposite.”

the amusement disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. megan stared ahead.

“congratulations.”

“i’m serious.”

“so am i.”

chaewon was quiet for a moment. when she spoke again, her voice had lost most of its teasing edge.

“you’re allowed to be angry, megan.”

“i’m not angry.”

the look chaewon gave her made the lie sound ridiculous. megan exhaled sharply.

“fine. maybe i am.”

“then be angry.”

the answer caught her off guard. she turned toward chaewon, expecting a lecture, but the older girl was simply looking back at her. “no one expects you to be okay,” chaewon continued. “no one expects you to move on. but every time someone tries to talk to you, you act like you’re the only person who lost something.” megan’s jaw tightened. before she could respond, a staff member called everyone toward the stage entrance. the conversation ended there. but as megan followed the others toward the stage, one final comment lingered in the back of her mind.

“just don’t disappear on us too.”

the performance itself passed in a blur.

months of rehearsal took over the moment the music started, carrying all fourteen girls through formations, transitions, and choreography they could probably perform in their sleep. the audience screamed every lyric back at them, the energy in the arena building with each passing minute until the final chorus felt powerful enough to shake the entire venue. for four minutes, megan didn’t have to think. she didn’t have to remember. she didn’t have to miss anyone. she only had to perform.

the relief was almost enough to make her forget how exhausted she was. almost.

as the final chorus hit, the arena erupted into a sea of lights and cheers. confetti cannons exploded overhead while cameras swept across the stage, capturing every smile and wave for the broadcast.

megan took a step forward.

the world tilted.

it only lasted a second, but it was enough to send a wave of dizziness crashing through her. the lights suddenly felt too bright. the music sounded distant. heat rushed through her body as her vision blurred around the edges. she missed a step. sophia noticed.

their eyes met briefly before megan looked away, straightening her posture and forcing herself through the remainder of the performance.

by the time they reached backstage, her legs felt unsteady.

a hand shot out to catch her arm when she stumbled.

immediately, the hallway erupted into concerned voices.

“she’s pale.”

“get some water.”

“when was the last time she ate?”

“megan, sit down.”

“i’m fine,” she snapped, trying to pull away.

nobody listened.

the concern only intensified, which somehow made her irritation grow with it. she was tired of people watching her. tired of being treated like she was fragile. tired of everyone acting as though she might break at any moment.

when she looked up, she found wonhee kneeling in front of her.

the younger girl’s expression wasn’t angry.

it was scared.

and somehow that was worse.

“we’re worried about you,” sophia interjected.

megan immediately looked away.

“i’m fine.”

“no, you’re not,” wonhee shot back.

“i’m standing, aren’t i?”

“that’s not the point.” yoonchae broke in, voice trembling slightly. and for the first time, megan realized just how exhausted she looked too.

for two months, she’d been trying. trying to talk. trying to help.

trying to reach someone who kept slamming the door in her face.

“we know you miss her,” yoonchae said quietly. “we do too.”

the hallway fell silent.

“but every day it feels like you’re disappearing a little more.”

something twisted painfully inside megan’s chest.

because the girls weren’t accusing her.

they weren’t angry.

she sounded terrified.

“we don’t know how to help you anymore.”

the honesty in those words hurt more than any argument ever could.

megan stared at the floor, suddenly unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

the exhaustion she’d been outrunning for weeks settled heavily over her shoulders.

when she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“…i don’t know how to do this.”

for a moment, nobody said anything.

because after two months of silence, anger, and carefully constructed walls, it was the first time megan had admitted she was struggling.

and judging by the look on everyone’s faces, they had been waiting a long time to hear it.